


Leman

by chronicAngel



Series: Concresce [5]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, Arguing, F/M, Meeting the Parents, POV Third Person, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: lemann. 	a lover, sweetheart or paramour





	Leman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikorins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikorins/gifts).



> This is based on speculation from our chat logs when discussing directions the RP could go in, but I didn't see this as something that would happen in the foreseeable future (if it did happen, I expected it to be a long way down the line) so I went ahead and wrote it. Sorry if I wasn't supposed to. Also sorry if I butchered your Ez.

The first time she considers introducing Ezreal to her family, she immediately knows it is a bad idea. Though Garen is familiar with Ezreal as an abstract concept through her letters, she can carefully craft Ezreal to be whatever she wants him to be when it is only through written correspondence. Her parents don't even get that much from her, as she often feels that writing letters to her parents is too dangerous. (This is an ironic train of thought, as her brother is in a decidedly higher position of power than Pieter and Augatha Crownguard, and it would be his obligation more than theirs to eliminate his sister if he learned of her abilities.)

"What are you thinking about?" Ezreal murmurs, suddenly right next to her, and she is more than a little startled.

"My family," she says after a moment, because she has no reason to lie to him. Caitlyn and Vi are arguing (likely about whatever prank Ezreal and Vi were previously planning) and thus paying the two of them no mind, so she does not protest when he wraps his arms around her midriff and rests his chin on her shoulder. It is not as overly affectionate as he often is when they are in private.

She can see his eyebrows furrow from the tone of his voice even as looking at him would require craning her neck when he says, "Why are you doing that?" She suspects from his tone that he might be worried she is going to leave him to go home. She thinks this concern is unreasonable on many grounds, the largest of which being that they both know that she has to go back to Demacia eventually no matter how much they avoid bringing it up.

She laughs despite herself and she isn't really sure why. He has not said anything funny. He seems to agree, lifting his head and giving her a look that's half-incredulous and half-concerned, like for just a moment he is debating whether or not she has gone insane. "Because I have to go _home_ , Ezreal," she says, and it is the first time either of them has addressed this aloud. She pulls away from his hold and turns to face him, only to feel her chest tighten at his crestfallen look. _Did he think_...? She swallows down the thought that he somehow hadn't realized she would have to go eventually.

With a cautious look in Caitlyn and Vi's direction (they're still bickering, and in fact have only started yelling louder now, but she suspects it is wholly affectionate), she leans up to kiss his cheek (she would never kiss him on the mouth when there were others in the room even if they were postulating over a dead body).

"Come with me," she suggests, quiet enough that she's not sure he can hear it over the other two's argument. She's not sure she wants him to. Everything about him going to Demacia with her and meeting her family would be a disaster.

His eyes do a quick scan over her face, reading her expression as he has always been so apt to do. After a minute, he answers, "Okay."

They plan to go by foot. He does not complain that it would be faster to take a carriage or any other means of transportation, but she suspects this is because he knows as well as she does how bored he would get, or else is just grateful for the extra time he can spend with her before he has to share her with the most important noble family in Demacia. (These are non-factors for her, not even something she thinks of until she wonders, briefly, why he does not point out the flaw in her preferred method. She isn't entirely sure herself, actually, why she chooses to go by foot, but a part of her she doesn't want to acknowledge whispers that perhaps she is stalling.)

It is a full moon cycle by foot from Piltover to High Silvermere, which is four weeks that she has to put up with Ezreal's attitude. (And also, he reminds her when she brings this up as they pack, albeit phrased in a slightly less hostile way since she isn't actually _looking_ for a fight, four weeks that they have completely to themselves. She tries not to think he is implying anything illicit, but it is hard not to read into it when it's him talking.) Caitlyn stops by Ezreal's house at dawn on the morning they are due to leave, so early, in fact, that Ezreal is still sleeping in and Lux is only awake to answer due to a fit of nightmares that she did not want to bother him with.

"Oh." Caitlyn does not sound disappointed to see Lux, per say, but she doesn't seem particularly excited about it either. "I brought this," she blurts, looking awkward as she thrusts a package toward Lux. She glances at it before taking it carefully from the older woman's hands and setting it down nearby. "Just... see that Ezreal gets it?"

"Of course," Lux says as though this much should be obvious. Caitlyn stands there, gauche and silent, shuffling in place for another minute before, suddenly and like she wants to get it over with before she changes her mind, she grabs Lux's wrist and pulls her into a hug (the most wooden hug she has ever been a part of, though this may be in part because she only really hugs Ezreal).

"The two of you will be careful, won't you?" She sounds like the doting mother figure Ezreal so frequently describes her as, which is as strange to Lux as every other part of this interaction is, so she just nods into the woman's shoulder. "Alright," she says, puling away. "Then I should be going."

She turns to leave, and Lux suddenly feels like she should say something. "Thank you," she says, and it is so rushed it almost seems panicked. Caitlyn glances at her over her shoulder and her whole expression simply asks _What on Runeterra for_? Lux isn't actually sure. "For bringing this for Ezreal. I am sure he will love it, whatever it is," she settles on nervously, picking up the package as though to clarify (though Caitlyn never looked confused). The other woman's expression softens somewhat in what Lux can only describe as fondness and she nods in understanding before turning once more to walk away. Lux watches her receding back until she is only a dot against the brightening horizon, and by the time she closes the door, she can hear Ezreal waking in the other room.

When he joins her in the sitting room, he appears to have already showered and gotten dressed ( _I didn't even hear it_ , she thinks, surprised), though she doesn't understand the point when he rarely puts the effort in to find actually clean clothes when, in his opinion, a shirt from the floor that does not yet smell disgusting and doesn't have too much dirt does just fine. He presses a small kiss to her shoulder and wraps his arms around her waist once more, his fingers locking together in front of her stomach so she has to actively fight to get out of his grip if she wants to (but she doesn't have to yet, so she doesn't).

"Good morning to you, too," she says, rolling her eyes, but she is used to things like this from him. "Caitlyn stopped by while you were sleeping."

"What'd she want?" He mumbles, and there is still sleep in his voice, giving it a rough quality that actually makes her blush. Rather than saying anything, she gestures vaguely toward the package and then turns to face him. Not for the first time (probably not even for the hundredth time), it occurs to her that she is probably in love with him, though the emotionally constipated Demacian side of her does not like to think of matters such as those. ( _And really, isn't she too young to understand that, anyway_?)

He doesn't even glance in the package's direction, instead staring into her eyes (and his are a gateway to _blue_ , so much blue). She is suddenly acutely aware of his hands on her hips. When he starts to lean in, she thinks he is going to kiss her. She wants him to.

He dips his head forward at the last second and presses a kiss to one of her biceps, and she rolls her eyes at him, laughing. "You're beautiful, Lux," he says, and he does this so often that she doesn't bother to argue with him anymore.

"I know, Ezreal. We have to go." He shakes his head and presses a kiss to the opposite bicep, and then continues to press kisses to the muscles in her arms and shoulders until she is giggling and trying to push him away. "Stop it," she laughs, gasping for breath. "Ezreal, stop, we have to leave!" He pulls away and gives her a dumb grin, and it takes everything she has not to roll her eyes at him again.

"You _are_ beautiful," he says again, hands once more on her hips, and she sighs.

"I _know_ , Ezreal," she replies, exasperated.

His grin widens and he pulls away from her, moving toward the package. "As long as you know, we can go," he comments over his shoulder, and she huffs and goes to get the things they've packed. By the time she comes back, a large pack under each arm, he's tucked whatever it was into one of his dozen pockets (she's only pretty sure that's an exaggeration) and is putting together something they can eat on the road. She knows if she asked he would tell her what it was, but she doesn't anyway.

By the time that they leave, the sky is the same warm blue as the markings on his cheekbones, but she can't really feel bad as she looks over at him with a sandwich in hand, eating slowly and yet still messily like he couldn't care less about it. She smiles against her will and drags her eyes to her own feet, walking with the rhythm of a military march. The terrain of the ground between Piltover and Demacia is familiar, with well-worn dirt roads and gravel that crunches under his feet (she is constantly on alert and doesn't step on much of anything). The way he tries to drag her off into adventures in the untamed woods is familiar too.

"There's this really old tree with letters carved into its bark this way, and I'll bet the leaves are starting to change colors already. It'll be pretty!" He tugs on her wrist and she remains firmly in place. Then, as though it is natural for him (and it really does seem to be), he easily adds, "Almost as pretty as you."

"Will you be serious for two seconds?" She is going for chastising, but she knows there is a smile on her face and in her voice alike. Hours later, she lets him badger her into setting up camp when it is only sunset so they can watch it together. (She argues that they could simply take a break to watch it. He argues that it wouldn't be as enjoyable if the whole time she was just thinking about how long it would be until they could pack up and start moving again. She points out that they won't make very much progress at all if they're stopping to watch the sunset every day. He doesn't have an argument. She begins to set up camp anyway.)

When two weeks have passed (and they're not quite halfway there, but they're only _slightly_ behind schedule so she does not comment that they don't have time to goof around), he drags her out of their shared tent to stare up at the stars with him. He fills the silence with rambling about the constellations that are currently above them, but she rests her head against his shoulder and listens anyway because she finds it endearing. ( _Because she loves him_.)

He points to a large, bright smattering of stars that don't actually look like they make up anything to her and explains, "In Ionia they call that one Xingxing Hu. It means _Lake of the Stars_. In Demacia, its name means pretty much the same thing-- _Star Lake_ \-- but it comes from such a different culture and language that it doesn't sound the same at all. See, in _Demacia_ , you call that--"

"Limni Asterion," she offers, and he pouts that she's stolen his thunder but nods. Before he can point to another constellation she doesn't care about and tell her all about its etymology in Noxus, she casually moves one of her hands over his, and his eyes drift down from the sky to where her fingers rest on his. "Ezreal," she says, so softly she's not sure she really said it at all. His cheeks visibly heat up with a blush and his eyes snap up to her face, though, so she suspects that he must. "What are you thinking about?" She whispers, and she loves the way his eyes fall to her mouth before he even says anything.

"How much I want to kiss you," he answers honestly, and she doesn't even feel embarrassed (or else mad at how cheesy he's being). She watches his eyes flick between her own and her lips again, and then holds her breath as he leans in. Everything about Ezreal is warm. His gauntlet-free hand which still rests on hers is balmy and pleasantly calloused, fingers brushing against hers as though he is looking for an excuse to lace them together. His cheeks radiate heat against her skin and she refuses to admit that this may be because she is blushing herself. His mouth against hers is hot in a different way that she tries not to think too much about, slotting against hers perfectly like it was meant to be there. (If she voiced this opinion aloud she is sure he'd crack a joke about how it obviously was.)

They arrive at Demacia's border a few days later, and she nervously holds his hand the closer they get to the high gates. She has never been turned away from the gates of her home before, but she has also never brought someone like... Her eyes fall to his gauntlet. _Someone like Ezreal_. "And remember, you can't mention--"

"I know, Lux," he says before she even finishes her sentence, and her nervous expression doesn't relax at all but she lets herself nod. Of course he knows. She's been reiterating it since the day he found out she was a mage. "Hey." He squeezes her hand and she glances up at him. "Calm down."

The soldiers in charge of guarding the entrance to their beloved country recognize her. They hardly glance at Ezreal before granting them passage.

He does not comment on the fact that she drops his hand once they're past the border or on the fact that everyone seems to know her face, or at the very least know her name. She dips her head forward in a silent greeting to every group of strangers they pass and walks a little faster so they can just get through this town and get back on the open road to High Silvermere.

Lies come easily to Lux. As easily as she explains away her staff as simply a bludgeoning weapon, she tells anyone who asks that yes, Ezreal is from Piltover, the gauntlet is an experimental piece of hextech. This keeps them from looking too closely at the way it glows, or from keeping them up with conversation.

"Why don't you just tell them I'm a mage?" He asks one day when they're in the middle of nowhere, and she can't help the way her head whips around to make sure they are truly alone even as they are far beyond the point most lost civilians would find themselves stopping at and there are no traveling caravans, merchants, or squadrons of moving soldiers anywhere in sight.

"Because, Ezreal, even if you're not..." _Staying_ , she wants to say, but something about this feels wrong. She huffs in frustration. "Because I'm..." She starts, and then falters. She does not want him to make fun of her, not about this. Not about _him_. "I'm scared for you," she finally murmurs.

His expression falls into one of gentle... _something_ , and it always frustrates her when he wears a look that she can't quite place. "Lux," he says, and his tone is so warm. Her eyes flit up nervously to meet his from where she has been staring at her hands while she fidgeted. He seems to have trouble articulating what he's feeling and after a minute gives up completely, brushing a kiss against her shoulder and then rolling over as if to go to bed right there under the sky when they have a tent. She practically has to drag him back to it.

High Silvermere is beautiful in the autumn. Though Lux has always loved her home the most in the winter, when snow shimmers under the sunlight and the air is crisp and cool and the beautiful waters freeze over, she loves to see the way the trees that dot the landscape change to flaming reds and oranges, burning with the same passion of the people who live within the city's walls. It is harder to get into the city than it was to get back into Demacia, the guards staring skeptically at Ezreal (not really _Ezreal_ , though; she sees the way their eyes slide to Ne'zuk's gauntlet), but they are eventually granted passage.

She suspects the smile her mother wears when she greets them is as fake as Lux's is, though neither comments on it. She notices Ezreal staring at her with furrowed brows when she pulls away from the short hug her mother gives her (more familiar than Caitlyn's, but so much less warm) and hopes he won't, either.

" _Midre_ ," she says warmly, an old Demacian word for the concept of a mother that Lux has never really known.

" _Thilia_ ," Augatha responds easily, but it is as fake as the rest of their relationship is. Lux does not know anything about her mother beyond appearances and, really, Augatha knows the same amount about her. Lux knows that her mother is a woman with greying brown hair and womanly curves despite her age that Lux has always resented not inheriting (she got her father's deceptive lean muscle and face that naturally falls into a bitter expression) who always wears a smile which is rarely real. She knows her mother, like herself, is a series of facades, but she does not know how much of what she does see is real or what the real Augatha would even look like. "Who is this?"

She pulls herself out of her thoughts and hides a blush by turning to look at Ezreal, who has remained smartly silent for the entire interaction. It is tamed by the time she looks back at her mother with a warm smile (more real than anything else they have shared here, perhaps more real than anything they have ever shared). "This is Ezreal. He headed the expedition to Ionia. He's my..." She struggles with this. Boyfriend has always felt far too childish, but lover feels too intimate, and all of the old Demacian terms her mother might know do not feel like they fit Ezreal the way they are supposed to fit her family. Her mother seems to draw her own conclusions, turning to Ezreal with the same warm smile she greeted Lux with and pulling him into a hug. He doesn't seem to know what to do, hands hovering awkwardly in the air.

Her father is in the sitting room reading when they come inside, and his attention is only drawn when her mother calls fondly, "Pieter, put the book down and come greet your daughter!"

Pieter Crownguard is a tall but lean man, with broader shoulders than he has any right to (yet still not as broad as Garen's, and really, she should not be surprised when their father's figure is not nearly so stocky and muscular). Though their relationship feels much more real than her relationship with her mother, there is still an element of disillusionment about it. Neither of them is ever 100% sure how to operate with the other.

" _Fadre_ , this is Ezreal," she says, taking Ezreal's hand and pulling him closer. (She has to force herself not to be nervous, because Ezreal will immediately sense it and get nervous himself.) "He's my... boyfriend," she settles on, and she tries not to flinch at the way her father's eyebrows spike or the way his eyes visibly flicker to Ezreal's gauntlet before he smiles politely between the two of them. _Even as he pretends not to be prejudiced, he is clearly judging him... What would he think if he knew his own daughter was a mage, I wonder_.

"Meeting the parents? I do hope you're not here to ask for her hand." Her father's attempt at a joke makes her blush and snap an indignant _Fadre_! Ezreal laughs nervously and then gives her a pleading look while Augatha playfully smacks her husband's arm. She thinks this is only confirmation that bringing him to meet her family was a horrible idea, but she is committed to it now.

She smiles between her parents and then half-leads, half-drags Ezreal to the sitting room before her parents can say anything else. It doesn't stop her mother from saying, "The two of you are so cute. So when will you be meeting Ezreal's parents?" When she's halfway through the doorway. She freezes, looking over her shoulder to stare in horror between Ezreal and her mother.

The smile he puts on is tired, but not necessarily unreal. "...They're on expeditions a lot, so it probably won't be any time soon."

She can tell he's upset, and she wants to scream. She does not understand how her mother can so casually ask this in a world where there are children with no parents starving half to death on every street and suspension bridge in Zaun.

It would be unlike her parents to think of anyone in Zaun, though. (It would be unlike them to think of anyone outside of Demacia.) Before the expedition, she supposes it would have been unlike _her_ to think of anyone in Zaun, too.

She does not say anything because she knows if she fights with her parents right here and right now, Ezreal will blame himself. She discreetly holds his hand and presses little kisses to his cheek when her parents are not looking for the rest of the day because she thinks it will help, and he brightens for a little while every time she does but ultimately fades to a default state of upset again. When just holding his hand stops helping, she takes him outside and tells him she will show him around the grounds, and for the first time since they got to her home he actually looks excited.

They are returning from the gardens hand in hand, the sun mostly set, when she sees Garen coming through the ornate gates of the yard.

"Garen!" She calls, smiling, and she drops Ezreal's hand for the first time in hours to rush over to her brother. Though he is still wearing armor, hugging him is less uncomfortable than hugging either of their parents was. He lifts her off the ground even as he seems surprised to see her, and she suspects that it is just natural for him after years of being forced to do it.

"Luxanna," he replies after a moment even as she is still in his arms and a foot off the ground, like he hasn't yet noticed he is holding her. After a minute, he seems to notice Ezreal and puts her back on the ground to move closer to him, as though sizing him up. Ezreal stares at Garen in what she can best identify as terror. "You must be Ezreal. Luxanna writes about you in her letters," he says after a minute, and he does not offer a hand to shake. She's not sure Ezreal would take it, anyway.

She follows Garen back inside and finds her mother cooking dinner. She does not offer to help with it, instead leading Ezreal to the library and telling him about how she used to sneak in here in the middle of the night; Garen would always catch her half-asleep with a book half her size open on her lap and carry her back to her bedroom, chastising her that she shouldn't read in the dark, it's terrible for her eyes. She doesn't voice aloud that she had used her magic for a reading light until she started dozing off, but Ezreal seems to gather as much anyway.

Dinner is awkward. Garen and her father talk about the prince and the Dauntless Vanguard without noticing, but her mother smiles expectantly between her and Ezreal as though waiting for one of them to begin talking about their relationship (how they got together while on a mission, most likely, an opportunity to silently scold Lux for her poor priorities) but Ezreal actually seems to be listening to her father and brother's conversation and she is stubbornly pretending not to notice her mother's looks. She is still angry with her. After dinner, Garen tells Ezreal he will show him to the guest room and her father shows himself to the sitting room, so she stays behind to help with the dishes.

"That boy of yours is very quiet," her mother observes, and Lux might laugh if she wasn't fuming. "I guess that happens when your parents are never home, doesn't it?"

She pauses in washing the dishes in her hands. " _Midre_ ," she scolds under her breath, and her mother shrugs.

"I'm simply making an observation, Luxanna. His parents should have stuck around long enough to teach him manners."

" _Midre_!" She scolds once more, though this is much louder. She only realizes she yelled, in fact, when her mother gives her a pointed look. Sighing and returning to the dish she was washing, she murmurs, "His parents didn't abandon him." At this, Augatha raises an eyebrow and Lux has to steel herself for whatever her mother is about to say because she knows it will be insensitive.

"It sure sounds like they did. Not even home enough to meet their own son's _inamapinos_? A responsible parent would give up silly adventures. They have a whole person relying on them--"

"Ezreal's parents are _gone_ ," she snaps, and her mother drops the dish in her hands into the sink with a loud clatter. Lux drops her own and turns to face Augatha with a glare. "He doesn't know where they are. They went on an expedition to find some lost artifact in Shurima and they never came back! But he couldn't say that because he probably thought you'd say something judgmental just like this! I'll probably never meet Ezreal's parents because they're _gone_!"

 _Gone_ , but never dead. Gone because even if they _are_ dead they are a void in Ezreal's life that even Lux cannot fill. She can feel tears stinging in her eyes as she continues, pitch and volume continuing to rise, "He's not quiet because his parents are gone! He's quiet because he's afraid of _you_ and _fadre_ and your _condescending attitudes_! And he's right to be! You're so self-absorbed that the only things you think about are yourself and Demacia and you could never consider for a _second_ that life is different for other people in other countries!" She's breathing harder now, sniffling and trying to hold back tears but she can already feel them slipping down her cheeks. After a moment, she feels a hand on her shoulder and her head snaps up to see a concerned-looking Ezreal.

"Hey, come on, Lux, it's fine."

She shakes her head, sobbing. "It's _not_ fine!"

He gives her a sad smile and puts his hands on her cheeks, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "Honestly, they accepted me immediately for no reason other than loving you so there's really nothing to get worked up over, okay? Everything's fine, I promise." She sniffs a couple of times and wipes at her eyes before throwing her arms around him even as she knows her whole family is watching them. _I love you so much_ , she thinks, pressing her face into his neck, but she doesn't say it.

"Let's just go," she says instead, and she means go as in _leave and go back to Piltover and never talk about this again because I don't even want to_ think _about my family for a while_ but when he nods he keeps an arm wrapped around her waist and leads her upstairs. She thinks that he is going to take her to the guest room and she absentmindedly takes the lead to go to her own bedroom instead.

A part of her thinks she should be embarrassed about taking Ezreal into her bedroom. This is ridiculous. She has been in his room countless times and they have been sharing a tent for weeks. Still, there is something about it that a part of her mind registers as abashing.

When she steps in to see her perfectly-made bed (undoubtedly done by any number of maids whose names her mother never bothered to tell her and she never bothered to ask for herself) and various old oil paintings of her family or small pictures taken of her and Garen (in some of the pictures, they are young enough that he isn't so much bigger than her, though her favorite is one of him at four years old holding her when she was a small enough baby she could hardly hold her own head up) are hung around the walls and sit in frames on a dark wooden dresser that has been in her family since her great-grandfather bought it for her great-grandmother shortly after they were wed. She thinks this, perhaps, is what is so shameful for her. Everything about her life before Ezreal was about her family and her country. There were no doubts everything around her was right. Now, she wonders if the dresser was made by someone in Demacia or if the credit was stolen from a woodworker struggling to support his family in Zaun. A naturalist in Ionia embracing the life in the timber under their hands. (She still does not acknowledge the possibility it is Noxian in design, but she will get there someday.)

She drifts toward her bed more than she walks to it, sitting on the edge and staring at her hands. She has never yelled at her parents before. No matter how frustrated she had gotten during childhood, it seemed like there was an invisible line that she couldn't bring herself to cross. Her parents were the obvious authority and there had never been anything that seemed important enough to risk crossing that authority.

As Ezreal sinks down to sit next to her and she sags her whole body against his side, she thinks that he is that important. She does not regret yelling at her parents (crossing authority) because she was defending something important to Ezreal, and thus by extension important to her.

"I sometimes wonder if the pathway between my mother's mouth and her mind is too unfiltered." He exhales in what she thinks is a laugh. "As a child, I adored how open she was willing to be with her thoughts. Women in Demacia... We are taught to be patriotic and _quiet_. Even in the military, I was expected to sit down and be silent while the men were talking. To see my mother's defiance of that from such a young age..." She furrows her brow thoughtfully. "I should have recognized it for what it was."

"You know," he starts tentatively, bumping his shoulder into hers. "I'm not... _upset_ that my parents are gone. Not really, anymore." He seems to realize this is wrong and scraps it, shaking his head. "I only have this gauntlet because I was looking for them. Without it, I wouldn't have found the Darkin tombs and... I wouldn't have met you. So... they left me the best gift in the world, really: The chance to meet you."

She feels tears beading up at the corners of her eyes again and wraps her arms around his shoulders in what might be an embrace. She knows her family is nothing more than a picture and a long line of yet more famous Demacian men willing to play the heartless soldier cutting down Noxian women and children so history might look upon them fondly. She knows her family is not okay, for all the masks they may wear. Ezreal is okay, though. When she presses a kiss (wet, because tears are streaming down her cheeks by now) into the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, she thinks this is enough for her.


End file.
